Cindrella's Crush
by Wolfychann
Summary: Sometimes you get a crush on the dumbest guy.


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A Crush (Cinderella)

Dear Diary, I think he saw me today! I know I saw him, rolling past our little house in his royal coach. I heard it coming and ran out of the house with a wet sponge still in my hand. And there I stood on our lawn all dirty, and him in his great white coach with four white horses and a coachman in uniform. But I'm not shy, Diary. I stood there unashamed and looked in the coach. As it rolled past, the red curtains on the window parted for a split second, and I saw _him_! He has the beautiful face of a prince, clean-shaven with almost delicate features, yet he looks so strong. He's incredibly handsome, tall and thin but with just the right amount of muscle, and he looks gorgeous in his royal white clothing. I wish I were a princess, Diary. Then I could go to the castle and see him. If I could just talk with him, I know we'd fall in love. He'd sweep me away with his cleverness as well as his looks, but I would be just as clever and then he would be the one swept away. Daddy always said I had a head on my shoulders, and I guess I am pretty smart for a girl. And, well, I don't want to seem immodest, Diary, but I'm not so bad looking. If I were a princess I'd wear a royal gown and have perfect skin and not a spot of soot on me, so I guess I'd be even prettier. I know he would fall in love with a princess as pretty as me.

I was standing there dreaming when Stepmom saw me standing out there holding the sponge while the dishes I was washing were still in the sink. I got a bit of a thrashing then, but I didn't care much. I was still thinking of him, of the calm, cool expression on his face, half hidden in shadow inside that wonderful coach.

Dear Diary, I just got the most wonderful news! The prince is holding a ball to choose a bride and it's open to _all the ladies in the kingdom_! That means me, Diary! I talked to Stepmom and she was not real happy with the idea, but then I told her he was rich and she sort of changed her mind. She said if that was the only way a lazy little whore like me was going help the family than I might as well try, but I shouldn't expect any help from her. Stepmom always talks like that. I got upset about it at first, right after Daddy went to heaven, but now I think it's kind of funny when she stacks all the insults on top of each other. But she said I could go! If I go there, I'll meet him, and if I meet him we'll fall in love, and if we fall in love we'll get married, and then, oh Diary, we'll live together in the castle forever. Stepmom said I could make my own dress from the sewing scraps as long as I didn't make it too slutty. The Stepsisters, bless their maggoty little hearts, taught me how to sew so I could mend their clothes, so I know just how to make a perfect dress. I'll look like a princess when I dance with him!

Dear Diary, they ruined my dress! Stepmom said it was a stupid rag but what could you expect from a freeloading little bitch. Then Stepsisters started yelling stuff too, then they grabbed the dress and tore it to pieces right in front of me. I'll never be able to go to the ball. I'll never even see him except with my stupid little peeks into the carriage when he rides by. I'll never touch him. And I suppose that means I'll never marry him.

I hate Stepmom. I hate Stepsisters worse. I wish Daddy were still here. He wouldn't let them do this. He'd kick them out of the house and I'd have my old room back instead of the old mattress in the basement. Then he'd take me to the best tailor in town and buy me the best dress there was. Then I'd go to the ball and dance with the prince, and we'd fall in love and get married. But now that'll never happen. I want to kill Stepsisters and Stepmom, slow and making it hurt. I'd tie them up and take out the kitchen knives and cut them everywhere but their throats, so they wouldn't die for a long, long time. Maybe I'd only take a finger every day or something so they could starve too. Maybe I'd feed them pieces of their own selves when they begged for food. But I know I couldn't do that. Once they started screaming I'd forget all the rotten things they'd done and feel sorry for them. I'm so stupid.

If I can't marry him, why do I bother living? So I can stay in this rathole of a house, getting beaten up and screamed at all day for the rest of my life? Now I can't go to the ball, he'll pick someone else for his bride and I'll have no way out of this hell. I feel like shit. I want to die. I'm to cowardly to kill Stepmom and Stepsisters, but maybe I'll at least be able to kill myself. When I'm dead they'll cry over me. It'll be the only time in their whole rotten lives that they really care about me. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to crawl under Stepmom's sheets to do it, so when she comes home in the dark and goes to bed she'll feel something in the bed, and she'll light a candle and there I'll be, all cold and bloody. Except I won't be there. I'll be in heaven. Laughing.

Dear Diary, you will not believe what has happened to me. I'm writing from inside a beautiful coach drawn by six white horses. It's almost as beautiful as his coach. I'm going to the ball after all. I was in Stepmom's bed with a knife, crying and making little cuts on my wrists, when suddenly I saw this light. There was this weird old lady in the room. She said she was my fairy godmother. Now comes the wonderful part. She asked me why I was crying, and I told her. She hugged me and took the knife out of my hand, then she touched the cuts on my wrist and they healed right up.

Then she made these crazy sparkles all around me, and I got cleaned up and a beautiful dress appeared on me, by magic. These beautiful glass slippers appeared on my feet. A little uncomfortable, but they make me look beautiful and long-legged—like a real woman. Even my hair was clean and beautifully arranged.

We went out to the shed, and Fairy Godmother found six mice in there. She threw them on the ground, and when they hit they turned into six beautiful mares, pure white. Then she got the old dog and made him into a coachman. Then—this is the really great part—she picked up an old mushy pumpkin we had lying around and turned it into a carriage _he_ would be proud to ride in. She did tell me that it all goes away at midnight. But that's okay. I'm sure I can get home by then.

I'm almost melting with happiness! I can go to the dance! I know just what will happen. I'll arrive in the castle in my wonderful coach, and everyone, especially stinky Stepsisters, will be dazzled by my beauty. All the girls will be jealous, and all the men will instantly fall in love with me. But I will have eyes for one man only. I will dance with others, of course, just to show him how gracefully I dance, and then he will ask to dance with me. I will say no, and dance with others to make him jealous, before finally accepting. And then we will dance and he will dazzle me with his looks and I will dazzle him with mine. By the end of the evening he will propose. And I will accept.

Dear Diary, what was the big hairy deal with this prince guy? Just as I had hoped, I met him at the ball. And we danced, and my heart beat fast that I was really touching him, with our bodies so close together. What a dork I was. Because then I looked at the prince's face, and he's really dumb looking. His eyes are beady and too far apart, and his nose is smushed in, and his teeth are crooked. He looks like a pig. And on top of that he's a lousy dancer, and he's got a big old potbelly that sticks out, and I could swear I heard a fart. Believe me, once I got a good look at him, the dance couldn't end soon enough. Jeez, was I stupid to have such a crush on him. Oh yeah, like we were going to get married and run away into the sunset together. Farting all the way, I'm sure. The really embarrassing part was, I couldn't get out of the ball until it was almost midnight, and my dress was about to disappear in front of everyone. I was running away from that stupid party so fast, I lost one of my slippers on the steps. It was deadly uncomfortable anyway.

You know, I've been thinking a little, and I don't need to marry some stupid knight in shining armor to get away from Stepmom. The house is mine, after all. What does Stepmom have that I don't that lets her push me around? She yells at me; I have a voice too, and I certainly know what to call her. She slaps me; all those chores gave me muscles she doesn't have, and I can slap harder. I can block slaps. She can deny me food, clothes, and shelter; it's my house, I've seen Daddy's will. So why am I letting her even live here?

Because when Daddy went to heaven, I was a little girl and didn't know any better. Well, I'm not a little girl anymore, Diary. Stepmom and Stepsisters are out visiting friends now. I'm locking the door. When they get home, they can take their stupid clothes and leave. If they have a problem with that, they can take it up with the magistrate. This is my house. I can run it myself.

Dear Diary, I haven't heard from him since the ball. Good. 

Stepmom and Stepsisters are history, although they did come back and tried to steal Daddy's will once, a couple weeks after I kicked them out. But if you aren't offended, Diary, I'm not telling even you where I hid it. I've started running a shop out of the house, selling dresses and suits I sew. With my inheritance, it's enough to keep me well fed, well dressed, and well read—my house is full of all the books we used to have when Daddy taught me to read. And I'm spending a lot of time with one of the young men from the village. You know, I think we might even get married.

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Author's note: The world needs a feminist Cinderella. At least that's possible; I don't think you could do it at all with Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, Snow White, etc.


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